Well, I'm Not A Wise Man
by magically-muddled
Summary: (AU, Definitely A Land Without Magic) One drink, one little dance. She couldn't help it.


Hello!

Once again, I've decided to publish some word vomit.

This is set in late 1940s America. I was inspired by some gangster films :) Of course, we're well outside our fairytale comfort zone, so it's my own completely magic free human-verse.

I've only dipped into the OUAT fandom twice before, so if you have any feedback/comment, it'd be greatly appreciated! Thank you x

...

They didn't need the music.

The young couple were in love, it was clear to see. Her eyes remained fixed on his, her body pressed firmly against him, yet still trying to draw closer. Emma couldn't help but feel that the woman's soul had escaped her, and interlaced with her handsome partners. She wasn't trying to fight it one little bit. They swayed in an effortless waltz, oblivious to the entire room, the noise and the smoke nothing more than drops in the ocean.

Emma was snapped from her reverie by the gentle _thunk_ of a crystal glass in front of her. She hadn't noticed the dashing stranger sidle up to her, but here he was, settled on the stool next to her, casually admiring the rows and rows of bottles across the bar. His uniform was clean and crisp, the navy blue contrasting with the bright white of his shirt. His dark hair was perfectly combed, with something just _slightly_ unruly about it. The dark stubble that covered his jaw was not Navy regulation, but made him rugged. The darkness of his lashes made his bright blue eyes sing. The only thing out of pristine place was the space where his left had should be.

She tipped the glass of - if she was not mistaken - rum with a frown, "What's this?"

"Just a man, buying a drink for a beautiful girl"

It was a challenge, but she just about resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his wide grin. Cocking her head to the side, her golden curls falling down her shoulder, she smiled sweetly "Oh honey, does that line ever work?"

"You'd be suprised." he challenged with a raise of his eyebrows, "I'm Killian"

She allowed his polished, delicious accent to roll across her. It was gorgeous. As was he. She turned from him, using the marble bar to prop her elbows as she watched the dancefloor again. Her True Love couple were twirling, the jewels decorating the woman's headband catching the light and reflecting in the gold tooth of -

Emma coughed, turning her head to the left to watch his sillouhette, assessing him, "A man from distant lands"

"And that hasn't impressed you either" Killian replied with mock frustration, "Give a guy a hand, love"

"Is that a joke?" Emma spluttered, eyeing his missing appendage on the bar. His eyes remained on her, resolutely twinkling. She fought a smile, instead offering advice, "I'm Emma. Emma Swan. Now's the time when you tell me a ducky story about losing your hand in the war, so I swoon into your arms"

Killian puffed out his chest, as though he was ready to regale her with tales of swashbuckling pirates and noble quests, only for his voice to fall to a monotone "I lost my hand in the war"

"I'm weak in the knees" she deadpanned, ignoring his joke.

"See?" he grinned a grin that _would_ make any girl weak in the knees, "I am good at this"

She drew a deep breath, knowing she should stop this. She could feel the slimy burn of _his_ eyes watching from the corner, dissecting her, analysing her, _hating_ her. She just couldn't pull herself away from the electric Killian Jones, "Now you buy me a drink"

"I already did" Killian used his good hand to point to the glass of rum she had turned her nose at.

"I'm not drinking that"

"Sweetheart, you could try to be grateful" Killian noted as he drained his own drink.

"I could, but my mother taught me to never tell lies" Emma smiled sweetly, pushing the glass back to him.

"Snow White, was she?" he murmured gently, reaching for the crystal tumbler. His warm fingers danced along hers for a moment, the surprise causing her heart to skip.

She cast her eyes down quickly pulling away from him in every way she could, "To me"

She truly was. Snow White had been placed under a terrible curse by The Evil Queen, and could no longer keep the child she had loved so dearly. She was abandoned - but abandoned out of love. _To give her her best chance. _That was the story she had invented as a child, the story she told herself as she cried through the night, the story she told herself when she was kicked out of the orphanage, the story she told herself when she was seventeen and pregnant, no hope for the future...

"Orphan?" His voice barely registered with her, though that one word flew her back to the present.

"Excuse me?"

"You never knew her, clearly. The look on your face paints quite a melancholy picture"

Emma reached for the glass again, bringing it to her ruby lips, "Maybe I'm just a melancholy person"

"I disagree, sweetheart. I recognise that look" Killian watched her carefully, smirking at the wince she tried to hide as the liquid burned a path down her throat.

"What look?"

"The look one gets when their happiness has been ripped from them"

She turned away from the dancefloor, resting her elbows on the bar, "Are you talking from experience?"

Killian laughed, a bitter little laugh, "Perhaps"

"Well, there's been a war" Emma acknowledged, watching him closely. Watching the tic of his jaw, the muscles in his throat as he swallowed, the conflict in his eyes. The fight between the sadness and the anger. The sorrow that weighed his strong shoulders down, it was overwhelming

And then the bright twinkle returned, "You're easy to read. Like a book. A challenging one, mind"

Emma shook her head at his naievety, "If you knew me you'd know this is dangerous"

"Because you're his?" Killian asked quickly, his head motioning to the dancefloor.

She didn't need to look, she knew exactly where _he_ was. At the corner of the dance floor, positioned to see everyone and everything. He'd have his crystal glass and his bottle of scotch, the cigar smoking peacefully. He always loved the aroma, rather than the actual taste. She knew he wouldn't like this, her talking to a handsome stranger. It had been ten years, and he still viewed her as Neal's property. Well, part of the Gold Family Empire.

"I don't belong to anyone" Emma objected forcefully, unsure just who she was trying to convince.

"And yet you're trapped in that tower, just waiting for your Prince to come" Killian's words dripped with sarcasm.

Emma's laugh chimed like a bell, "Are you going to rescue me?"

Killian's eyes raked over her, taking her in. Her protective stance, her designer crimson gown, her perfect curls, her defiant chin, her steely gaze, "You don't need rescuing"

"So the Prince seriously expects me just to waltz on up to him, no effort required?"

His eyes raked over he again, in an _entirely_ different manner, his eyes burning into her "No, the Prince is well aware of the effort required"

She stepped towards him, once again unsure why she was hurtling down this path, "He's just not up to the challenge?"

His tongue ran along his lower lip deliberately, "He _loves_ a challenge"

She took a shakey breath, refusing to be drawn in, physically pulling herself away from his magnetic draw, "Well, that's something to bear in mind"

"Mmm" he agreed, his stare remaining on her lips as he wound a golden curl around his index finger, "Care to dance?"

"Can you?" Emma questioned before she could think.

Pulling himself off the stool, he leant into her, his warm breath dancing along the shell of her ear, "I assure you, the rest of me is intact"

"Not what I asked" Emma replied, involunarily assessing him from head to toe. He was indeed still intact.

He grinned innocently, "Whatever do you mean, Princess?"

"I thought you asked me to dance" Emma replied, her attempt at annoyance morphing into amusement.

"As you wish"

Ignoring how good it felt to have his fingers laced in hers, she schooled her features to remain neutral as he slowly paced backwards, pulling her into the darkness. She closed the gap quickly, placing her hand on his shoulder, as she felt his arm snake around her, his arm resting against the small of her back.

The True Love couple were just to her right, the man whispering sweet nothings in his companion's ear. She rested her head on his shoulder, her short dark hair merging into the darkness of his suit. They had truly moulded into one.

Lord know's what look fell across her features, but Killian squeezed her hand in response to it. She smiled, gripping onto his strong shoulder, "So what happened to your hand?"

"Do you not like the War story?"

"I like it, but I'd rather know the truth"

They twirled for a moment, Killian seamlessly manouvering them through the throng of couples. She watched his jaw tic, and then he spoke quietly, "I had a rather ugly encounter with your lovely guardian - The Crocodile"

She stopped abruptly, pulling away slightly, "Gold cut off your hand?"

"Survived the War without a scratch, and I was barely back a year when he maimed me" Killian confirmed with an ironic smile, pulling her back towards him.

"Oh" Emma muttered at a loss for words, thinking it through. _Gold cut off his hand... what was she? Revenge?_

"Peace is defeating. War is simple. Kill, or be killed"

"Those rules apply day to day" the words tumbled from her lips as her eyes caught the cold, calculating set from the corner.

"Indeed" Killian's eyes met hers and it all fell into place. He wanted revenge - kill or be killed. Here she was, the weak spot in the armour, his point of access to one of the most notorious 'businessmen' the Los Angeles had the misfortune to house.

Killian frowned, watching the emotions play across her face. He strengthened his grip just as she tried to pull away, "What's the matter Swan?"

"Find another way" Emma ground out slowly, prising her hand out of his. It was ridiculous, how strongly his betrayal stung. She had known him for approximately one drink and some flirtation. Yet, it felt like the rug had been pulled from her, and her eyes burned from the threat of tears she _would not _let fall.

His grip remained firm around her hand as she tried to wrangle it free, "Find another way for what?"

"Read me like a book" Emma snapped, her nails scraping along his palm.

He smiled at her sharp tone, "You are not my method for revenge, Emma"

"Shall we just call this a coincidence then?" Emma huffed, eyeing the dark figures making their way towards them, clearly dispatched by their master. Killian took a step forward, placing himself in front of her in a protective stance and something snapped. She returned to her former position, a hand on his shoulder to pull him back into her embrace.

"Why are you in the company of such a reptile?" Killian asked through clenched teeth, his eyes fixed on the retreating figures of the henchmen.

"I don't have much choice _but_ to be in his company" Emma hedged, trying to relax and stop Gold from interfering. If he cut off Killian's hand, God knows what else he'd do to him.

Killian watched her carefully, his thumb running along her pulse point in a soothing motion, "You don't seem the sort of woman to be backed into a corner, love"

In turn, she ran her thumb along the stitched fabric of his shoulder, carefully examining the gold thread. Anything to avoid his searching eyes, "Everyone has their price. It's his speciality to know mine"

"A child?"

_Henry._

It was as if she was snapped from a dream, a wonderful stupor that had kept her floating along with this handsome stranger. She pulled from him suddenly, his arms chasing thin air. _This was a mistake_. How could she be so stupid? Fraternising with a man Gold so clearly hated, when she had Henry to consider. What was this for? A drink and a dance?

"Emma?" Killian murmured gently.

"This never happened. We never met. None of it" Emma replied forcefully, backing away slowly, her eyes cast down.

"Emma" Killian tried again, reaching for her.

"Don't. Don't follow me. Don't contact me. Just, just... don't"

She turned on her heel, very nearly crashing into the couple she'd been admiring earlier. The woman with the short hair grabbed her partner for support, his steadying arm wrapping around her middle. Emma stumbled, righting her self last minute, a pathetic gasp passing her lips. It was a battle to leave him - _what the hell was wrong with her? _She muttered an apology and stumbled through the crowded dance floor.

She walked quickly, praying he wouldn't follow, and hoping he did.

Her prayers were answered.

...


End file.
